Kitty LitterSjef Frenken

Some people bring sunshine when they
enter a room; others, you might say, turn off the lights.
Personally my moods don't swing very much; those of my
friend Jack on the other hand can range, so to speak, from
frostbite to sunburn.

"Good morning," I greeted Jack as we
settled down on one of the half-dozen two-seaters in the
Bayshore food court. This was a few weeks ago.

"What's good about it?" said Jack. I
realized that I hadn't caught him at a good time.

I said "Jack, when someone says 'good
morning', he's not giving you a weather report or a time
check; he's simply wishing you a good morning. And it seems
to me you need one."

A dismissive grunt was Jack's reply.

So I asked him: "What's bothering you?"

"One of my neighbours," said Jack.
"Actually his cat."

"What's the matter with his cat?" I
asked.

"The damn animal shits all over what
little garden I have. Every time I work my vegetable patch,
and don't look carefully, I wind up with wet kittypoo on my
hands. Why do cats leave kinda watery calling cards; not
like dogs -- they usually leave hard ones."

I've run into that problem myself, so I
could sympathize.

I said: "Why
don't you get some cat repellent from Canadian Tire?"

"I tried that," said Jack, but every time
it rains it flushes away. And that makes it too damn
expensive."

"How about one of those motion-activated
sprayers? Cats don't like to get wet."

"You know, it's not only cats that move
in my garden; a lot of birds too, and all together they'd
have that machine spraying all day long. And at the price
of water these days ..." Jack shook his head as he
considered the price of water. Then he continued: "You know
what gets my goat? Cats are very neat; they don't like to
shit in their own backyard. So they wander over to their
neighbours' yards to do their kitty
crap. Any time someone lets out his cat,
he's really telling his neighbours "Surprise! My cat is
going to shit all over your yard. Lucky you!"

I said: "Have you tried talking to the
cat's owner?"

"No," said Jack. "No use; he's an
ignoranus."

I said "You mean ignoramus."

"No," said Jack, "Ignoranus. He's
an ignorant asshole."

I said: "So what are you going to do if
you don't want to talk to him?"

Jack said: "What CAN I do?"

I said: "The way I see it you have two
options now: live with the situation, or do something about
it."

"Like what?" Jack asked.

I said "Give him a dose of his own
medicine." There was a pause.

"Good suggestion, you've given me an
idea" said Jack with a gleam in his eye and a thoughtful
scrunch on his face.

As I said, this was a few weeks ago.

This morning I had lunch with Jack who
had a big smile on his face.

"What's with the big smile on your face?"
I asked him.

He said "You were right with your
suggestion about my cat problem."

I said "So what did you do?"

Jack said "I went to the Humane Society
off Carling, and I told the lady there I wanted to adopt ten
cats. She probably thought I was going to open up a Chinese
restaurant. It took a while before I convinced her I would
take good care of them."

"So what happened?" I said.

"I took them home, and kept them in the
house for three days to get them acclimatized. Then I let
them out. Next thing you know they were over in the
neighbour's yard doing a little spontaneous fertilizing.
When the neighbour wanted to let HIS cat out, the animal
didn't dare leave the house on account of all my cats
hanging around ready to start a cat fight."

"I did that for a couple of days,"
continued Jack, and then my neighbour capitulated; came over
to ask if I could please keep my cats on my side of the
hedge. I said 'sure, as long as you keep your cat on your side.'
And so far I've had no problems. He's put his cat on a
little leash."

I said "Yes, but what are you going to do
with your ten cats?"

"Oh," said Jack, "they're back at the
Humane Society. The lady didn't want them back, of course.
I told her she could always sell them to a Chinese
restaurant. She didn't think that was funny. I said, if
she didn't take them off my hands, I was going to
sell them to a Chinese restaurant. And that did the
trick. Thanks for the suggestion. Lunch is on
me.

Sjef Frenken is a renaissance man: thinker, writer, translator and composer of much music. A main interest, he has many, is setting to music the poetry, written for children, during the Victorian and Edwardian eras. Nimble of mind, Sjef is a youthful retiree and a great-grandfather. Mostly he's a content man, which facilitates his relentless multi-media creativity.